Chapter 16
Harold's pulse was beating rapidly as the game entered the closing few seconds.
The opposition was one point ahead, and their rooting section was cheering thunderously, thinking that they had wrapped up the league championship.
Harold was fearful that they might be right, and now that they were in possession of the ball as well, they had one intention, that of running out the clock.
They were doing a beautiful job of keeping the ball away from Harold's team, passing it brilliantly, and with just ten seconds to play, Harold knew that somebody on his team would have to commit a foul in order to get the ball back.
When the ball was tossed over to the man that Harold guarded, he reached out and slapped the man on the wrist, causing a foul.
The referee blew the whistle, stopping play. The teams lined up at the foul line.
Harold looked up in the stands. He observed his mother sitting there pensively, her hands shaking with great nervousness.
Seated just a few rows away, he observed Daisy looking on. She too reflected great anxiety.
The player heaved a deep sigh, took dead aim, then tossed the ball up toward the basket. It rolled around the edge of the rim several times, then rolled off.
Pandemonium reigned as Harold jumped up for the ball, grabbing hold of it and yanking it away from two members of the opposition, who made a desperation grab for it.
Now the fans on both sides of the court were screaming loudly. One side was yelling to get the ball back, while Harold's school was hoping for a quick basket.
Harold tossed the ball off, and the players ran down the court eagerly.
There were only five seconds remaining when the ball was tossed to Harold.
Since he was top player of the team, it was naturally thought that he would be the one to take the last shot, on which the hopes of his school would be riding.
But Harold was double teamed. Two members of the opposition were jumping in front of him, holding their hands up high.
Even though Harold was only twelve feet away from the basket, and was in a position for one of his favorite jump shots, he was covered, and it would be very difficult for him to score in such circumstances.
But with two men guarding him, that meant that one person was open. As the seconds ticked by, he caught Lou Bennett out of the corner of his eye.
Lou held his hands up for the ball. He was standing alone momentarily, just some six feet removed from the basket.
Harold did not hesitate for a moment. He flipped the ball eagerly in the direction of Lou, who caught it and immediately tossed off a jump shot.
Suddenly the crowd became silent as the ball was flipped toward the basket. Everyone knew that the league championship rested in the balances.
The ball flipped cleanly through the net, causing the loudest outburst of the night from the rooting section of Harold's school.
Two seconds remained and the basket was made, and the clock immediately ran out on the action.
Joyous members of Harold's team picked up Lou Bennett and carried him around the court. He was the conquering hero of the evening, even though he had only scored eight points, whereas Harold had led all scorers of both teams with twenty-two.
Lou continued to be mobbed, all the way to the shower, and his joyous team mates shoved him under the shower with his uniform on.
"Cut it out, you guys," he laughed.
Such were the fates, Harold couldn't help but think even though he joined in on the festivities and was very happy the game had ended as it did. He realized that there would have been one chance in three for him to make such a shot, surrounded by the two men. He thought that he might have been able to make it, but was not sure. In the case of Lou, on the other hand, he was free, all by himself momentarily, and there had been at least two chances in three that he would have been able to convert on such an opportunity.
So Harold had simply played percentages. As a team man he knew that Lou stood the better chance, being closer to the goal and unguarded at the moment to make the winning basket So he had passed on to Lou, who now was the hero of the evening.
Harold and Lou finished showering at just about the same time.
"You sure did toss a beautiful pass my way, Harold baby," Lou said gratefully.
"The pass wouldn't have meant anything if you hadn't made the shot. Congratulations."
"Thanks, but I think you're selling your own contributions short. That was a beautiful pass, a clean pass. You put the thing right in my hands, and all I had to do was toss it through the net."
"But there was all kinds of tension on you in a situation like that," Harold pointed out. "You made the most of it. I'm really proud of you."
They shook hands, each respecting the other's contribution.
Then they went their own separate ways, leaving different exits.
Harold immediately spotted his mother, who ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek.
"Great game, son," she said.
Standing a few feet away, was Lou Bennett who was mobbed by his joyous school mates. He had become man of the hour by scoring the winning basket.
After a number of the girls had kissed him on the cheek, and a number of the boys had shaken his hand, Harold observed Daisy running up through the milling throng of people.